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"Sorry," I say, trying to steady my pounding heart. "I'm not usually this jumpy."
"Understandable," he replies, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. We stare into each other's eyes, my chest heaving as I feel the weight of his arm around my waist, praying he won't let go.
I notice his eyes flicker to the cut of my dress, the curve of my breasts, the edge of my lips - all within milliseconds and then he pulls back with a deep breath, almost like he had to fight himself to do it.
A sense of loss overpowers me, and I feel a warmth spread between my legs. "This place has a way of getting under your skin," he whispers.
I wonder what it would be like to have him under my sheets.
We continue in silence. A few meters ahead, a faint glint catches my eye on the floor of the dimly lit corridor. I pause, curiosity piqued, and crouch down to examine the object that's captured my attention. Dario stops with me, his eyes questioning but remaining silent.
It's a small, gold-embossed note that seems out of place in these dark, dusty surroundings. I can feel the subtle ridges of the embossed border of the vintage, geometric lines as I lift it in my hands.
The elegant calligraphy is hand-written and I can still smell the ink. "What is it?" Dario asks, his voice low and cautious.
"Here, read it," I hand him the note. He scans it quickly, his brow furrowing as he reads out the cryptic message: Attenzione alle ombre, fa' caso alla notte, uno spirito alleato protegge la tua luce.
Beware the shadows, take heed the night, a spectral ally guards your light.
"What do you think it means?" Dario asks, looking at me. "Who do you think it's meant for?"
"I don't know," I whisper back. As he looks over the note again, another note catches my eye, lying a little further ahead. I pick it up, feeling the weight of the gold embossing beneath my fingers.
"Dario," I call to him. "There's another here."
Dario pockets the note and walks over to me. "Who are these from?" I murmur, more to myself than to Dario. Each note bears the same mysterious signature on the bottom of each message —a single, ornate letter 'G'.
"Perhaps someone trying to help us?" Dario suggests, clearly as puzzled as I am. "Or leading us into a trap? What does this one read?"
I read out the note: Mentre si dipanano racconti di mezzanotte, devi proteggere il tuo cuore, giovane anima. Tutto ciò che conosci si sgretolerà in polvere."
As midnight tales unfold, you must guard your heart, young soul. For all you know will crumble to dust.
Dario and I look at each other, fear seeping through our hearts. "I don't know what these mean or who they're for," Dario says, frustrated.
"Neither do I but either way, they know we're here," I say, my heart pounding as the implications of these notes become clear. Someone is watching us, guiding us through this maze of hidden passages and dark secrets.
Dario takes my hand, and together we follow the trail of notes, the next one telling us to take a right.
"What if it's a trap," Dario mutters. My thoughts race in tandem with my heartbeat, struggling to keep up with the sudden whirlwind of information being laid before us.
"But what if it's not?" I ask. "If someone wanted to lay a trap, they could have caught us here, now, in this moment. There's little we can do to defend ourselves alone."
"Jasmine, we need to be careful," Dario says, his eyes locked on mine, searching for any sign of hesitation or fear. "We don't know who's behind this."
"I know," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "But we have to keep moving. Whoever it is, they're always two steps ahead of us and what if they're truly here to help."
"Fine. Let's go," Dario says, his grip tightening on my hand. "We take one right and at the first hint of trouble, we run." And together, we step into the unknown, our fates intertwined in this high-stakes game that threatens to consume us both.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. The eerie silence of the corridor only amplifies the sensation, and I find myself involuntarily glancing over my shoulder.
The notes signed with 'G' seem to be guiding us, but to what end? And who is this mysterious 'Ghost'?
"Jasmine, are you alright?" Dario asks, sensing my unease.
"I just... I feel like this ghost is trying to help us from someone far more dangerous," I admit, my voice barely a whisper.
"Let's keep moving," he suggests, his hand resting on the small of my back, a comforting presence. "We'll find out soon enough."
